[And to help if the spirit's resentment had turned the man into someone against his nature...not that he's going to explain.
He doesn't know the exact spot the man's remains were kept but he had a name so he walked while scanning the names...until he finally stops. Then he points.]
That one is his.
[There is definitely something angry gathered around that particular urn, though from what he can sense the spirit was not at peace but it wasn't to a dangerous point. Just to be safe, he sets a barrier around this building with a flick of his wrist. Something basic and not very strong. Just in case.]
( time to draw forth chenqing, to stand and call to the... specific energy here, which isn't happy, no, but the resentment it carries isn't such to cloy and sting, leave his tongue heavy in his mouth, his throat parched, his eyes darkening with ill will or the slide of smoke-like energies across skin, seeking, forever seeking.
unlike his husband's direct means of question to answer, he coaxes emotion, experience, less a direct answering than the full of a bombardment shared unequally. the spirit of the dead man pushes forward, outward, flowing thick and viscous, but hardly vicious. unhappiness, the feeling of being wronged, a deep, fathomless grief, these are the things that strike first. that, and: jealous?! my shitty old man?!
... all things told, as Wei Wuxian lowers his flute and raises his brows, not a particularly filial sounding spirit. then again, is he surprised? sordid history, in all this. )
He's complaining, but I'll have to say, most likely he'd prefer his father moved out, such as it is... where was his lover buried, when her time came?
[His expression of confusion was very genuine. He could understand wanting to leave but he couldn't really understand why he would want his father to leave or why they needed to know where the lover was buried.]
She was buried elsewhere...[His tone implies he knows where but...] ...is that important?
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no subject
[And to help if the spirit's resentment had turned the man into someone against his nature...not that he's going to explain.
He doesn't know the exact spot the man's remains were kept but he had a name so he walked while scanning the names...until he finally stops. Then he points.]
That one is his.
[There is definitely something angry gathered around that particular urn, though from what he can sense the spirit was not at peace but it wasn't to a dangerous point. Just to be safe, he sets a barrier around this building with a flick of his wrist. Something basic and not very strong. Just in case.]
no subject
unlike his husband's direct means of question to answer, he coaxes emotion, experience, less a direct answering than the full of a bombardment shared unequally. the spirit of the dead man pushes forward, outward, flowing thick and viscous, but hardly vicious. unhappiness, the feeling of being wronged, a deep, fathomless grief, these are the things that strike first. that, and: jealous?! my shitty old man?!
... all things told, as Wei Wuxian lowers his flute and raises his brows, not a particularly filial sounding spirit. then again, is he surprised? sordid history, in all this. )
He's complaining, but I'll have to say, most likely he'd prefer his father moved out, such as it is... where was his lover buried, when her time came?
no subject
[His expression of confusion was very genuine. He could understand wanting to leave but he couldn't really understand why he would want his father to leave or why they needed to know where the lover was buried.]
She was buried elsewhere...[His tone implies he knows where but...] ...is that important?